


to save the world, of course

by carrythesky



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrythesky/pseuds/carrythesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Trish's breath tastes like strawberries.)</p><p>-----</p><p>Trishica drabbles. Mostly fluff. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. climbed your city's walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short ficlet dedicated to my other favorite ship from the MCU TV-verse. :) I took some liberties with the timelines, so I apologize if they’re way off - it’s been awhile since I finished the show. Also, spoilers for the end of Jessica Jones season one.
> 
> Inspired by this prompt: Imagine person A and B are in two different time zones, and argue about when to say ‘Happy New Years.’ 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“It’s how warm there? You can go ahead and fuck _all_ the way off, Walker.”

 

Jessica Jones was curled into a ball on her sofa, swaddled head to toe in the oldest, shittiest blanket ever made. It wasn’t doing much to keep her warm (read: old and shitty), but it was better than nothing, so she nestled into it, tucking her phone into the crook of her neck so she could keep both hands warm.

 

“By SoCal standards, it’s actually pretty chilly,” came Trish Walker’s reply. “You know, you wouldn’t be cold if you got your heater looked at. I know a guy-”

 

“It’s fine,” Jessica interjected, even as a shiver ran through her. Half a year had passed since she’d snapped Killgrave’s neck, but Trish still preoccupied herself with things like Jessica’s heater ( _“That thing’s as old as time, Jess, you should really get it replaced”_ ), or the number of vegetables Jessica consumed each day (AKA: precisely zero).

 

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she heard Trish sigh on the other end. She would never admit it, but she actually didn’t mind it when Trish worried about her. Even if she had been more vocal with her concerns since leaving for the west coast a few weeks ago to promote _Less Talk, More Walk_. Title was cheesy as _fuck_ , and how her best friend had found time to write an entire book, Jessica would never know, but she was proud as hell.

 

“So, how are things in the Kitchen?” Trish asked, breaking her from her reverie. Jessica could hear the faint tremor of concern in her friend’s voice, and she knew where Trish was trying to steer the conversation.

 

“You mean, how are things with Frank?”

 

A pause. Then, “I just don’t trust him, Jess. How can you be so sure that he won’t...” she trailed off, and Jessica knew she was struggling keep herself from saying something she knew would start an argument.

 

Jessica closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “Look, I’m not saying the guy’s gonna win a Nobel Peace Prize anytime soon. But Karen trusts him, so he can’t be all that bad, right?”

 

Another sigh. “Alright."  The reply was so soft, Jessica wasn’t sure if it was Trish or if there was a bad connection. “Change of subject, then.”

 

“Happy almost-New Year's?” Jessica offered. She eyed the clock on her desk. 11:57 in New York, so that would make it…

 

“Not even close, it’s a little before 9 here,” Trish said. “Doesn’t count.”

 

“Not my fault you’re gonna miss it,” Jessica shot back, confused at the sensation that was taking place in her stomach. It almost felt like... _Jesus, butterflies, really?_ She wrinkled her nose. _Get a grip, Jones. You’re acting like a thirteen-year-old girl._

 

“Rub it in, Jess, rub it in,” Trish said with a hint of laughter, which did _not_ help the butterfly situation. “But in all seriousness, it’s strange that you’re not here,” she continued. “My publisher threw us a pre-New Years party, and it’s nice, but…not really my idea of a good time, I guess.”

 

“No one to lock lips with, huh?” Jessica said lightly, annoyed with the tiny pinch of jealousy she felt as the words left her mouth.

 

“Well, I’ve had a few offers.” The pinch of jealousy became a sucker punch to the face. “But I still have a couple hours to fend them off.”

 

They sat in silence for a few moments as Jessica watched the second hand tick towards midnight. She’d kissed plenty of guys on New Years, sure, but none she could really remember through the haze of inebriation she’d been cloaked in. None that had actually meant something. _Thirteen-year-old girl,_ Jessica thought, half disgusted with herself and half curious, picturing a very different set of lips, green eyes, a curtain of silver-blond hair...

 

...and before she even realized what she was doing, she was turning her head and pressing her mouth softly to her phone.

 

“Hello? Jess?”

 

Jessica jumped, yanking the phone away from her face and breathing in deeply. _Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?_ she berated herself. Her cheeks were aflame with embarrassment, and she was supremely thankful that Trish was currently thousands of miles away.

 

“Jessica? Jess, are you there?”

 

“I’m here,” Jessica said, bringing the phone back to her face. “Sorry, there was...there was a rat. Scared the shit out of me.”

 

“I have an exterminator you could call-”

 

“It’s really not a big deal-” Jessica stopped, smiled in spite of herself. “Okay, fine. You win, Walker. I’ll call. First thing when you get back.”

 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Trish said incredulously. “Could you put my friend Jessica back on the phone, please?”

 

“Happy New Year’s, Trish,” Jessica said, smile widening. Objectively, she knew she probably looked like a moron. But the butterflies were taking flight, and her facial muscles were beginning to ache in the best way possible, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt happiness like this. So she kept smiling.

 

“Happy New Year’s, Jess,” Trish said, and this time, Jessica was sure the softness in her voice couldn’t be explained by a bad phone connection.


	2. burning so deep that just breathing hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "We’re hiding from the authorities and it’s very close quarters in here, I can feel your body against mine."

She’s seventeen the first time she realizes she wants to kiss Trish Walker. They’re hunched together in some sort of storage closet, shoulder to shoulder, and Jessica can’t see for _shit_ , but she feels when Trish breathes in, smells the sugar-sweet remnants of a mixed drink lingering on her friend’s exhale.

 

( _Strawberries_ , she thinks, then shoves the thought violently away.)

 

“My leg’s asleep,” Trish mumbles in the darkness, elbow digging into Jessica’s ribcage as she shifts slightly.

 

“ _Ouch_ ,” Jessica grunts, twisting away as much as she can. “Jesus, you’re bony.”

 

Trish just laughs. “Okay, you were right. This was officially the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

 

“Fucking _told_ you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry I dragged you out,” Trish says, and Jessica has to stifle a snort, because it was only a few hours ago that her best friend had been quite literally pulling her out the door. “C’mon, Jess,” she’d pleaded, tugging Jessica by the hand. “Just for a few hours. It’ll be fun.” Her eyes were wide and bright, sparkling in the hazy porchlight, and Jessica found herself conceding, partly because _alcohol_ and partly because she wanted to be the reason Trish’s face looked like that, like starlight set afire.

 

She’d actually been having an okay time, too, up until the moment Trish had grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into a nearby closet, spitting out the word “Dickbag” as an explanation. Jessica had sighed, because of course they would run into Trish’s tool of an ex-boyfriend here, barely a week after he’d dumped her for some skanky girl half his age. For a second, her blood ran hot at the thought of turning around, punching the ever-loving _shit_ out of the asshole -

 

Then Trish’s hand was on hers, and every thought in her head had dissolved like smoke through air.

 

“Jess?”

 

She blinks back to the present, gives her head a soft shake. Now that her eyes have adjusted to the dark, she can faintly make out Trish’s face, the slant of her nose and curve of her lips. She swallows past the tightness in her throat.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re just being…uncharacteristically quiet. It’s freaking me out.” Trish’s voice is airy and light, the sound of someone just on the other side of tipsy, and Jessica feels it too, all warm and tilty like she’s been pulled off her axis. She’s not sure how long they’ve been hiding out here, but it obviously hasn’t been that long, because the world is still fuzzy, blurring at the edges.

 

“Maybe I’m pissed at you, Walker,” she says with a half-smile. “You dragged me here against my will. The least you could’ve done was let me rip Dickbag’s balls off.”

 

It’s Trish’s turn to grin. “Next time,” she says lazily, eyes fluttering closed as she leans her head back. Jessica’s gaze is magnetic, locked on Trish’s face - _stop staring stop staring jesus fucking christ you’re being creepy stop staring_ \- and a very different kind of warmth blossoms in the pit of her stomach as her eyes flick towards Trish’s slightly parted lips. They’re so, _so_ close - all she has to do is turn her head -

 

Trish opens her eyes.

 

“Don’t freak out,” Jessica says, and kisses her.

 

\-----

 

(Trish’s breath tastes like strawberries.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for this series:
> 
>  
> 
> [chapter one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZHGeg_0Rlo&list=PL50Tx2Ap7Bf1tJiNVLMeSyYRV0537bXH1&index=42)
> 
>  
> 
> [chapter two](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IoMTmJ7SKw&list=PL50Tx2Ap7Bf1tJiNVLMeSyYRV0537bXH1&index=38)


End file.
